I went to the kitchen but, of course, I kept the door open just a crack and peeked through.
I watched as my brother was told to remove his pajama bottoms and kneel on the sofa, which my aunt had aligned with another chair.
The sofa arm and the chair arm were together and, draped over the arms, your bottom would be pushed up and exposed.
I watched through the crack of the door as Felipe obeyed, again with impressive calm and dignity.
I hoped I would keep my cool so well.
My aunt raised the spoon and began to smack Felipe’s bottom with it.
She raised her arm high and brought it down hard and fast, again and again, and he trembled on each impact.
I’d quickly seen enough, pulled the door to and sat at the kitchen table, aghast at what was to come for me.
The sound was awful. Crack, crack, crack, so many whacks.
I began to watch the clock, and only then did I realize how late it was.